


The Metaphor

by sheApunk89



Series: Good Soldiers Soldier On [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Both happy ending and comfort are forthcoming..., CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheApunk89/pseuds/sheApunk89
Summary: Give them darkness. Give them cold. Give them silence and pain.Give them the worst you could muster.But give them at least one brother to cling to and you would never break them.That was Order 66's cruelest outcome. And Ahsoka Tano's worst crime.In saving her own life, she doomed Rex to an existence he was never meant to endure.A wound he was not designed to survive
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Good Soldiers Soldier On [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077983
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	The Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. 
> 
> CW: implied suicidal ideation.

_From the moment they were decanted they were surrounded by others. Thousands of voices and heartbeats. Brothers._

_The trained together. Ate together. Slept together. Died together._

_To be separated was a fate worse than death. A weakness the Kaminoans had not counted on, one the separatists rarely thought to exploit._

_Clones were pack hunters. Together, there was no hardship they could not endure, no torture they could not overcome._

_But separate them and exploit their one true weakness. Solitude could drive a clone to the brink of madness._

_Give them darkness. Give them cold. Give them silence and pain._

_Give them the worst you could muster._

_But give them at least one brother to cling to and you would never break them._

_That was Order 66's cruelest outcome. And Ahsoka Tano's worst crime._

_In saving her own life, she doomed Rex to an existence he was never meant to endure._

_A wound he was not designed to survive._

* * *

**_Field Triage Medical Intervention - Phase One: Walk it off_ **

At first, Rex handled it the way he would any battlefield injury that didn’t immediately kill him. He ignored it.

That death cold ache deep in his chest that caught him unawares sometimes and stole his breath away…it wasn’t that much of a problem if he stayed busy.

And after 66 there was plenty to do.

When he and Ahsoka left that Force forsaken moon (they had all been forsaken) they were two of the most wanted fugitives, with the most easily recognizable faces, in all the galaxy. There were credits to get, identities to create, trails to cover and connections to make.

He slept in quick snatches, just enough to keep functioning, and lived on stims and caf. When those ran out he relied on things that were a little less legal but just as effective.

And so he ignored the invisible injury, in spite of it all. And he soldiered on.

Until, one day, Ahsoka left him too.

It was his idea. It was for her own safety. It was only a matter of time until one of the backwater planets they frequented decided to cash in on the standing bounty for any deserter clones.

And despite the danger he could only go on without looking for his brothers for so long. It was his duty to go back for them. But he couldn't put Ahsoka in that danger.

So she left.

And the wound ripped open.

Rex decided the best way to deal with the sudden _(immense, crushing)_ solitude was to get black out drunk and pass out on the floor of his rusted out bucket of a ship.

And he bled for days in the silence.

* * *

**_Field Triage Medical Intervention - Phase Two: Apply pressure to stop the bleeding_ **

If he thought he’d been busy before, rescuing brothers was a breakneck pace he knew he couldn’t keep up. Following every lead bought off untrustworthy information dealers in poorly lit bars. Countless nights spent shadowing troop movements and refusing to sleep lest he miss an opportunity, only to haveto leave empty handed because there was no way he could take on an entire platoon or squadron or battalion of men _(not his brothers, not now, but maybe again someday)_.

And it ached and ached and ached to leave orbit, the names of the brothers he was leaving behind sliding back down his throat and turning his stomach. It hurt in his bones to know he’d failed them.

It hurt worse to know he had to keep going _(can’t give up, good soldiers soldier on)_ if he would ever have the chance to help them.

And so he endured the silence, pressed harder on the hurt, grit his teeth and kept moving.

_Just a little longer…_

* * *

**_Field Triage Medical Intervention - Phase Three: When applying pressure isn’t working, apply a tourniquet. Repeat step one_ **

Rex caught a break after a two years. He finally cornered the right trooper at the right time.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

The relief he felt couldn’t even be dampened by the threats his brother hissed, blank eyes and no fire, but determined nonetheless.

Rex chuckled while his stolen and reprogrammed med droid, MD-14, prepped for the dechipping surgery.

“Gotta say Wolffe, you were scarier when you remembered how to swear.”

The surgery didn’t take long but Rex stayed by the bedside while he waited for his brother to wake up.

When he did, Wolffe cried. Cried and raged and howled. For the men he’d left behind and the general he'd shot out of the sky.Rex held him close, spoke soft and quiet, unrelentingly supportive until Wolffe stopped trying to push him away.

He pitied his brother, though no more than he pitied himself, but he never apologized. Couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for getting his brother back, even if Wolffe seemed determined to blame him.

When they found Gregor he and Wolffe decided it was best if they went their own way. So they did.

And Rex soldiered on, as good soldiers always do.

* * *

**_Field Triage Medical Intervention - Phase Four: Change bandages regularly. Hope nothing gets infected_ **

Their ships had always been home. Kamino belonged to the Kaminoans, Coruscant to the GAR. The closest thing they had to their own was the barracks on their ships, and then only to the extent that the Generals allowed it.

Rex had his own ship now. Something that belonged to him alone, even if he technically didn't exist.

He hated it.

It was old and it creaked menacingly whenever they went faster than sub-light. It was cold most of the time.

And so very very quiet.

Emdee wasnt much of a conversationalist and Rex made no secret of the fact that he wasnt fond of droids.

He could go days, sometimes weeks at a time just wading through the silence.

For a man bred for the adrenaline of battle, accustomed to sharing everything, up to and including his own face, the solitude of space was as maddening as it was unfamiliar.

It was hard not to get caught up in his own head. Harder still, when he was days and weeks between ports, to keep his mind from turning against him.

Spiraling into guilt. Sinking into despair. The reasons he had left for continuing, soldiering on, started to dwindle. And the reasons he had for giving up, marching ahead into that same _(blissful, hateful)_ silence, harder to ignore.

Eventually he found himself curled up on his bunk in the dark. He'd locked all his weapons and blasters in an escape pod and given Emdee the launch code and explicit instructions to jettison it if Rex tried to get them back before their next rendezvous with Hondo.

For once, the surly med droid did not argue.

And Rex tried not to think of the way Kix would glare if he found a wound on him he had neglected, swollen red around the edges and too sore to touch.

* * *

**_Field Triage Medical Intervention - Phase Five: If it hasn't killed you yet, it probably wont._ **

Rex scowled and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sudden light.

"Emdee! What the kriff is wrong with you?" He bellowed, wrapping his arms around his head and curling tighter on himself.

"You have received a message."

"I don’t care."

The droid did a fair approximation of a huff and rolled further into the room.

"Its from Hondo. He has cancelled your meeting, he sends his apologies."

Rex was silent. Emdee was not deterred.

"You may recall that I am a med droid, not a protocol assistant."

"Emdee I swear on Fett's grave if you don’t-"

"He sent information in his stead."

Rex paused, but didn’t move. Emdee rolled closer.

"He said you would forgive him when you saw it."

Finally, his stomach rolling with nerves and anticipation, Rex lifted his head.

"He said it’s the one you've been looking for."

Rex's mouth felt like the deserts of Ryloth and his heart pounded so hard his whole body shook in time with it.

Emdee raised what he could only interpret as an expectant eyebrow and Rex unfolded himself on his bunk, feeling too hot and too cold at the same time. Slowly, carefully, like the realization of hope might be his redemption or his undoing, he took the datapad Emdee was offering.

Hondo's note was short, overly familiar and exactly what Rex needed.

He couldn't breathe.

"Cody." He managed, voice high and tight, the lights of Emdee's eyes remained unmoved.

Rex's hands shook.

"He's found Cody."

Good soldiers soldier on.

And what doesn’t kill you quickly should never be given a second chance.


End file.
